not there yet (lyn)

I decide to try on my size 28 Paige jeans.  The ones I attempted to sell last year on Craig’s list.  On October 18 I wrote: The size 28 Paige jeans…will be my goal jeans—to fit in them by next Spring. 

It’s not exactly spring yet.  In fact, to date this winter, 47.4 inches of snow have fallen on Central Park, compared to an average to date of 18.1.  Dirty snow mounds line the streets.   But still, spring is now less than a month away.  So I thought I’d try.

I find the jeans hidden in my closet.  I am amazed to find that they actually make it past my calves, and even over my thighs.  I can actually get them on.  And if I hold my breath, I can button them.  I’m spilling out over the sides, but at least they are on.  Not exactly wearable yet, but on.  Alexander offers some advice:

• Don’t dance in them.
• Don’t bend over to pick anything up.
• Don’t lift your shirt.
• Don’t jump up and down.
• Don’t tuck anything into them.

I take them off and put on what-were-once my aspirational size 29 Lucky jeans.  They are even feeling a little loose.

I hope that by the time Spring actually does arrive, and that any vestige of winter has been erased, the size 28 Paige jeans will fit.    We’ll see.

back to school (m)

Went to H's school tonight for a meeting regarding an upcoming trip the Latin class students are taking this Spring break.  The Latin classroom is on the opposite side of the school, three flights up (no elevators) and has those little desks with the built-in desk tops. 

The first time I went to this classroom last year, I was out of breath at the top of the stairs and needed a can opener to get into and out of the desk.

Tonight, even with bad knees, I kept up with everyone else going up the stairs, arrived with breath to spare and easily got into and out of the desk.

Funny how progress can be measured in so many different ways.

why is it taking so long? (lyn)

Yes, I ate well at Shari’s birthday dinner.  But that was last Thursday, so I had five days to make up for it.  And yes, I had a big brunch with out-of-town friends on Sunday, but I ordered a healthy, low-point omelet.  So what if that same night I ate an 11-ounce prime shell steak (15 points by itself and I only get 18 per day), since the next morning I was sick and involuntarily expunged the entire dinner from my system? Then yesterday I left my house at 9am and did not return until 11pm.  But even still, I ate a ham sandwich for lunch and a turkey burger for dinner with nothing in-between, not bad points-wise.  By last night, I had used up 34.5 of my 35 bonus points for the week.  But I do overestimate a lot of what I eat.  And my scale, as of yesterday morning, was still showing an almost two-pound loss for the week. 

So given all that, I wake up this morning expecting great results at weigh-in.  I get to my meeting and strip down for the scale.  Robin smiles and says, “Down POINT 2.  You should be so proud.  That’s 30 pounds total.  Congratulations.”  I feel like skipping the meeting for the first time and going home to sulk.  I don’t.  But these last few pounds are taking forever!

dear readers (lyn)

The other day I was visiting a friend. Her 17-year son, who is a computer expert, showed me how to add a tracking device to this blog so we can view readership.  Despite a relatively simple 3-step process, It took me two days to get it right.  But it seems to be working, and now we can see how many people are reading our blog, and even where they live (by city, not street address;  also, no names are given so you needn’t worry about privacy).  M and I are happily surprised to see that we have so many readers, and many live in states where we don’t have friends or relatives.  In other words, there are many people who have found this blog on their own.

We’d love to hear from you.  You can sign in anonymously and comment directly on the site, or drop us an email at lynj@nyc.rr.com.  We really care what you think!  We’d like to know what you like; and what you don’t.  And what keeps you reading this blog.  Anything at all you want to say, we want to hear.

If you like what you read, please tell your friends.  Support from all of you is great incentive for us to reach our goals. 

We hope to hear from you.

for this I shaved my legs? (m)

Finally, the day has arrived for me to see the rock star orthopedic surgeon.  I booked the appointment quite a while ago.  Meanwhile, his Physician's Assistant, J, administers cortisone and drains some sinovial fluid (6cc, I will weigh in at WW immediately thereafter to capitalize on the reduced fluid in my body).

The appointment is for 2 p.m.  I look at my schedule for the balance of the afternoon....pick up H from school at 3:20 and then meet with a bank President at 4 p.m to discuss a possible loan for a business venture. Tight, but doable, especially since this pre-op appointment is supposed to last just 15 minutes.

For good measure, I get to the surgeon's office at 1:40 p.m.  If my friends (and family) could see me now, I think to myself.  I'm actually early for something!  "Is he running on time, I ask?"  The receptionist has a permanent pained look on her face.  "Yes, somewhat," she says.  I so want to point out the contradiction in what she said, but I let it go.

At 2:15, I get called into the examination room.  "Have a seat, please," they say.  And then they close the door. There is nothing to look at in the room.  I sit there and take out my Blackberry.  My oldest brother is undergoing a procedure at Mass. General Hospital.  I am nervous, but optimistic for him.  His daughter, S, keeps me informed with periodic updates.  That helps pass the time.  One of my favorite skating mothers calls to ask if her daughter should go into pairs (versus singles).  "Try it," I say.  That chews up another 10 minutes. I rearrange my sweater and admire my weight loss.  I am all dressed up in my black Eileen Fisher cashmere sweater, white silk shell, black slenderizing pants, pearls and make-up.  I look good.  The best part is that I took a bath, shaved my legs, put body oil on my legs so they would be soft (and shiny!).  I have on my Italian perfume from Capri (Jackie Kennedy wore the same brand but I had it before I knew she did).  I even changed the polish on my toe nails which was a Herculean feat given I couldn't bend my knees that well.

Where the hell is this guy?

I look at my watch.  2:55 p.m.  I will never make it to H's school in time for pick up.  Now I have to swing into Plan B and locate Mama G...the skating mother who is at the rink for what seems like 24/7.  She agrees to pick him up.  Great.  Note to self: buy Mama G a bottle of red wine.

Where the hell is this guy?

My cell phone rings.  Some nut job from my old office.  "Call you back," I say.  Look at my watch again: 3:15.  Now I'm going to be late for my 4 p.m. meeting at the bank.

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

Open the door and walk down the hall.  "I don't mean to be pushy, truly I don't, but I just want to make sure Dr. B knows I'm in Exam Room 3," I say with an unconvincing smile.  The Great Pained One rolls her eyes and says, "he knows."  I so want to say, "then why the f... isn't he here?" but I gave up swearing for Lent so I do not.

Go back into Exam Room 3...feels like a prison cell by this time.  My cell phone goes off....a text.  My brother Phil's family wants to know what's going on with our brother J.  I text back but don't have my reading glasses on and am all thumbs today.  I hate texting, I decide.  I look at the cell phone clock: 3:25 p.m.

Is this guy ever going to show?

Just then, the door bursts open and in walks Dr. McDreamy.  Impossibly tall, tanned, handsome and charismatic.  "So....I am going to cut you!," he says.  Big smile on his face.  Gucci loafers.  Nice pants, nice shirt.

I find myself SMILING back at him!  I want to slap myself silly for doing it, but there I am, grinning like The Chesire Cat.

I explain that while the appointment was made for my left knee, my right knee now hurts.

I get up on the exam table, Dr. B manipulates my knee, I wince and yelp a bit and he tells me to sit up.

"You know, you are carrying some extra weight," he says. "You might want to think about taking some off."  Really!  What a f.......   novel  idea!" I want to say.

And just like that, my crush is over.

So, here I am....back at square one...getting an MRI for the other knee.

The worst part is that I get to do this all over again next week.

Next time, I don't think I'll bother shaving my legs!

i'm sick (lyn)

After dinner last night (steak, mashed potatoes and tomatoes), I start to feel nauseous.  And tired.  By 9:15, I am in bed, with a towel next to me, just in case.  I awake at 1:30 and see that Alexander is still up studying.  The fact that he had a surprise snow day on Friday should have insured an early-to-bed time on Sunday, but it didn’t.  I’m feeling too sick to say anything.  And then, what am I going to say anyway?

I’m burning up.  Not from fever, but rather from my 76 degree apartment.  I open my window, and go back to sleep.

By six this morning I’m in the bathroom throwing up.  I don’t know if it’s something I ate or the stomach flu that seems to be going around.  I go back to sleep until the phone wakes me at 9:30.

I spend the day lying around, trying to read, and drinking green tea.  M suggests I go on the B.R.A.T diet for the day:

• Bananas
• Rice
• Apple sauce
• Toast

Around two, I’m still tired but my stomach feels fine.  I try some Weight Watchers multi-crisps in lieu of the T for toast and my body adapts.  By four, I am more adventurous and substitute the A for apple sauce for a plain A as in apple.  No problem.

By eight I’ve abandoned B.R.A.T. completely and asked Alexander if he could pick me up a plain roll and some deli turkey.  I have that for dinner, and digest it easily.  I think I can manage a mini Ciao Bella mango sorbet for dessert, and hope that whatever stomach thing possessed my body earlier today is now gone.

a profitable discovery (m)

I call the number for abandoned properties to determine if there is any money owed me.

I am shocked when a clerk picks up the phone on the third ring.  A real person.

I explain I am one of the people listed in the paper.  She asks for my name.  I give it to her exactly as listed in the paper which was a little funky as it had my last name, first name, husband's last name and the first two letters of my husband's first name... in that order.

She asks if I've ever lived in either of two cities...suburbs of Boston...neither of which I've lived in.  My heart sinks.  Then, I quickly move from disappointment to anger...who else would have that combination of names?  I am ready to fight for what's mine, even though I have no clue as to what that is.

She asks where else in Massachusetts I have lived.  I give her my first apartment on Commonwealth Avenue (lived there with Abby).  No.  My first condo on Marlborough Street.  No.  Our first house in Chestnut Hill.  No.  My current home.  No.  My parents' home.  No.

I've run out of places I've lived.

Just when I thought it was over, she says she will give me one final question.  I feel like I'm on Jeopardy.  Everything depends upon this answer.  "Have you ever lived on Boylston Street?"

Boylston Street.  Nobody lives on Boylston Street.  Boylston Street is retail and office buildings.  Office buildings!!!  I worked on Boylston Street.  YES!  I give her the exact address of my former office (no longer there).

She is as excited as I am at this point and tells me I have $1,208.00 from an old insurance policy.

It may not be enough to put anyone through college or go on an exotic vacation, but it is more than enough to buy the red DVF wrap dress.

Now "all" I have to do is lose the rest of the weight.